Among Other Organs
I’m not waiting up.
I’ve already confused lust
for dusk more than once.
My eyes, among other organs,
are old and tired.
There’s nothing ironic
about the phone’s silence.
If you tell a person to fuck
off, they usually do. I’m not
waiting for you. The midnight train
has already cut the night in two.
Through the screen, wafts honey-
suckle and clematis. Darkness
smells so sweet, I have to shut
the window. I’m not waiting
up. I took an allergy pill.
If the phone rings,
I’ll be asleep, dreaming
of pollination. Bees don’t fly
at night. Neither should husbands.
If someday I pass you on the street,
forgive me if I say nothing.
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4 comments:
god i love this
your writing always hits me
right here / points to chest
my word verification is
mrfruzib (with out the space)
i wonder who mr fruzib is?
lol
~jx
laurel, your recent poems have been esp good. i think there's a confidence in them.
Hi Laurel
This is damn near perfect.
t
This is beautiful. No missteps and a lot of better-than-right ones. Great title that would have a reader beg to get into the poem. It has all the accompanying images to cut the reader like "the midnight train... in two," and uses the senses to its bittersweet purpose ("wafts honey/suckle and clematis") painfully-wonderfully. Bravo.
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